


Little Hands and Lost Lives

by lacewingss



Series: Inquisitor Nethra Lavellan [8]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Babysitting, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Fear, Gen, Repressed Memories, baby!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewingss/pseuds/lacewingss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nethra and Cullen want Cole to watch their young daughter for a few hours while they attend to business, but Cole is hesitant to agree. His memories of the real Cole's sister and her tragic end haunt him, and he is afraid to be near baby Sibyl.</p><p>Kmeme fill!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Hands and Lost Lives

_Hungry? No.. Tired? No, no. Maybe lonely? But, he was right there._

It was so hard to hear the little one's voice over all her crying. 

The baby lay in her basket, tiny arms flailing and legs kicking. Her face was red and wet; the tears had drenched her cheeks and were now rolling to her neck, catching the light from the window and shining. She looked like she was in pain, but Cole couldn't hear the cries that pain usually made in someone's mind. He couldn't hear anything but her screaming. 

The Inquisitor hurried over, the unusual sight of her in a dress not quite registering with Cole. He was too focused on the baby, and how her slightly pointed ears poked out from her hair in a way similar to her mother's. Nethra reached her crying child and picked her up, nestling her in her arms and cooing softly. 

“Sibyl, shhh, shhh.” She spoke words in elven, clips and phrases passed down mother to mother in a language that was dying like the stories and gods it spoke of. It sounded old and sad, but Sibyl must have liked it, for she stopped her crying. In the silence Cole could hear her now: happy, content, blurred images of sounds and faces. 

Still watching, Cole turned his mind to Nethra. She was smiling, bright as the sunset outside, no hint of worry or stress. This little bundle was the Inquisitor's world now. Dragons, darkspawn, demons....the fear of the evils in the world were no longer forefront in her mind, shouting out like before. Now it was love and growth and small lips learning to smile. 

“Here, vehnan.” The Commander had appeared next to her, and Nethra handed Sibyl over to her father. The big man held her like a statue of glass; gentle, careful, reverent.  
Cole had first worried over the fragile child when he saw her, from afar, held in Cullen's arms. She was so small and he was so strong. What if he broke her like he had broken the bottles of lyrium? What if she had magic? Would he hurt her? What if _anyone_ hurt her? 

She was so important to the Inquisitor. Cole couldn't let anything happen to her.

So he watched. From the battlements, from the shadows of the trees. Around corners and behind pillars, Cole knew where Sibyl was at all times, and who was with her. He saw her when she first smiled, and the tears in the Commander's eyes when he looked at her and Nethra together from across the courtyard. He watched Bull toss her tiny body up in the air, and the Inquisitor wring her hands in worry. She was the most sought after person in Skyhold, but Cole was content to watch her life play out without his interaction in it. 

Nethra was finishing slipping on a pair of shoes when Cole focused back on her. She looked nice tonight; like autumn leaves caught in the wind outside, she wore a dress of red and gold. Her formal clothes reminded him why he was here, and before he could spit out any more excuses Nethra began to speak. 

“Cullen and I will be just down in the main hall. The ball should only be a few hours, and we'll be back right when Josephine say's it appropriate to leave. Sibyl will probably sleep the whole time, so you won't have to do anything but sit here with her.” 

Cullen approached Cole with his daughter still safe in his embrace, who was now looking around with large, pointed eyes that were a mirror of Nethra's. He could smell the fresh scent of washing soap and new skin on her, and almost count the freckles on her nose. This was the closest he had ever been to the half human baby. A year worth of watching and never had he braved being near her. It was dangerous. He had to protect her, for the Inquisitor and for the Commander, and protecting her meant staying away. He could reach out and touch her, if he wanted. No one would mind, and Nethra might even be glad. He could run his fingers along her baby soft skin and over her red lips, feel the rise and fall of her breath. 

This near, he could feel the memories inside of him clawing at the thin walls of repression. Cole, the real Cole, had a sister once. She probably looked a lot like Sibyl, with her mop of blonde hair. She had been a child, too, and had people who loved her just as much as Nethra and Cullen loved their daughter. Cole had loved her. He had loved her so much he had killed her. 

_Crashing, crying, calls of hatred in the voice of his father. It was cramped and dark, the walls closing in on every side and the air thick with terror. No, no, don't cry. You have to be quiet, mamma said we have to be quiet. Fingers and palms pressed into lips that already knew how to smile but didn't. Now she was quiet, now she was safe. Now she..._

Outside of his memories, Cole jerked back from the basket, and stumbled towards the stairs that led out of the room. His hands were shaking, his palms slick with sweat and the ghost of saliva and tears. The cupboard's walls were pressing in on him, even in the open space of the Inquisitor’s room. He could feel the pounding of heavy footfalls in the kitchen beyond, and he knew, he knew that it was all his fault. It would always be his fault. He brought his hands up to his face, staring in horror at what they had done. What they could do. He didn't want to remember this again; _no please not again, no more hurting._ He was more real now that he had ever been, and the burning knot clinging to his insides that Varric called 'good old human pain' was searing him and it _hurt_ to think about.

The cold of the stone wall hit his back and brought a sliver of reality with it. There was no cupboard, no murderous father just outside the door. But there _was Sibyl_ – the little girl so much like another little girl, in other life.

“Cole,” Nethra had abandoned her place next to Cullen the instant she saw Cole's suffering. Her voice was gentle and steady as she spoke to him, her eyes holding his. “You can do this.” Nethra moved to his side, her motions liquid and grace and purpose. She placed her hand on his arm, wrapping her fingers around it and holding on not too tight but strong enough he could not escape. “I don't know what happened, but whatever it was, it wasn't you.”

“No, don't let me! I can't help her, I'll hurt her! And that'll hurt you and I don't want to hurt!.” Cole's cries rivaled Sibyl's, though his had the unmistakable timbre of stark fear. He tried to shake off Nethra's arm, but she only pulled him into a tight embrace. 

“I trust you, Cole.” Quiet words in his ear, honest and truthful. 

Nethra was warm, like his friend Rhys had been, like the lady templar who had helped him when he remembered the first time. She didn't know about the real Cole's sister, or what he had done. Or what _other_ things he had done before he found her. She didn't know, but she forgave him anyway. And she did trust him. She had helped him, like he had helped her. When he was afraid of being taken over, she had helped his mind stay clear and free. He was more human, thanks to her. Nethra was like him – she wanted to help, too. If she trusted him, Cole thought maybe she was right. Maybe he could do this. 

“Ok.” He said, picking himself off the floor where he had slumped. His hands were still shaky, but they would steady soon enough. “I want to try.” 

She smiled at him and rose to walk back to Cullen and Sibyl, leaving Cole to make his way over in his own time. He could hear Cullen's soft voice from across the room, though, when he spoke to Nethra. 

“Are you certain this is a good idea? Perhaps there is someone more suited to the task willing-”

“No,” she interrupted. “Cole will be fine.” 

Still hesitant, he moved towards the gathered family, stopping to watch as Cullen lay Sibyl back down in her basket. He gave her a kiss on the brow, nodded to Cole, and headed towards the door. The way his lips lingered told Cole he didn't want to leave, not really, but his duty tonight came before his daughter. 

“Sibyl is lucky to have someone like you watching out for her, Cole.” Nethra gave him one last knowing smile, and followed her partner out the door.

All too soon the room was empty besides him and the bundle in the basket. She was quiet, her large eyes looking up at him with interest. He could see Nethra in her, and Cullen, too. She was them, but she was also her. She was a life all her own that she would shape and grow and fill. 

“I can hear you.” He marveled, leaning over the silk fringes of her basket and matching her stare. 

_Flashes of flowers, frost on stone steps, the warmth of familiar arms and unfamiliar sounds that would soon be words. A lone figure on the wall, sun glinting off a hat shading their eyes._

_Me, she's thinking of me._ Cole was surprised; he didn't know children so young could remember so much. She must have seen him watching her all along.

“Sibyl,” he tasted the words on his tongue, testing it out. “Like the Hawk. Varric likes that the Inquisitor named you after his friend.”

The girl's lips turned into a smile, her eyes seeming to grow larger. She reached out her hand – so small and smooth – and Cole, his only shaking the slightest bit, reached back. When he touched her he let out the breath he had not known he had been holding, and relaxed. 

He could never hurt Sibyl. Nethra had been right, of course. She was a precious life, like all the others, and his history, the real Cole's history, was just that. He would no longer let the horror of what he had down to another little girl, long ago, bleed over to Sibyl. He didn't have to protect her from afar anymore – he could protect her by her side.

“Do you want to hear a story Varric told me?” Cole settled himself in a chair next to the basket, only taking his hand from Sibyl's as long as it took to sit down. “It's about a mabari. That's a dog, like a wolf, but without the guilt....”


End file.
